


The Cowardly Lion and the Naïve Deer

by NemuiNingen



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Atonement - Freeform, Bisexual Male Character, Character Death, Coming of Age, Dancing, Everyone Is Gay, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Prayer, Redemption, Self-Pity, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29917770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NemuiNingen/pseuds/NemuiNingen
Summary: It's been five years since Byleth vanished. Sylvain returns to Garreg Mach as promised to reunite with everyone, but feels it is the least worthy of anyone to show his face and fight alongside their leader. Yet, he happens to find Claude, and through time spent with him, Sylvain begins to come to terms with his immaturity and takes the steps needed to become the man he always thought he was.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Lament of Self Pity

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written with a friend on Twitter (InkedBangnyfe), they have since given me full permission to edit, combine, and continue this story on my own. Though, on occasion, they do give insight and ideas for future scenarios.

Five years. Had it been that long since they had all set foot in Garreg Mach? Normally, five years wouldn't seem that long to most. Yet, given the outbreak of war, a single week felt like a whole year. Five years? Sylvain felt like he had lived his entire life twice over.

He wondered if anyone would show, or if he'd be the only one, walking into a nest of bandits. As he wandered through the ruined gates to the grounds, Sylvain's ears began to play tricks on him, recalling the faint whispers in his memory of his days there as a student. The courtyards had been so full of laughter, the training halls with determination, the classrooms...with naps. Now it was rubble, destruction, and rot.

That fateful day in which Edelgard revealed herself to be the Flame Emperor still haunted him, as did the vision of her army approaching to overthrow the monastery. A dragon crashed across the battlefield, and then both Professor Byleth and Lady Rhea disappeared. Dimitri had fallen and been killed not even a year later after succumbing to madness. With no one to ground them, hold the groups together, everyone at long since dispersed their separate ways.

Sylvain gripped tight around the handle of his horse’s saddle. It was haunting to have all this come back to him. The memories circled in his head, like ghosts haunting him through the air until he felt the plate of his finger armor slice and bruise against his fingers curled so tight. His teeth clenched until his jaw hurt.

All he could think about was regret, about how things could have been prevented, how he could have saved Dimitri or anyone else for that matter. Even today, they still didn’t fully understand why Edelgard had betrayed the church. Why had violence and sacrifice been the only foreseeable option to her?

Had he been the only one plagued with regret all these years? Had he been the only one losing sleep? Trembling and fearing over everyone he hadn’t seen for so long? The further his horse carried him across the main grounds the more he felt he didn’t belong here. Even if everyone else _did_ show up, he was most likely the least worthy to show his face. He had killed his brother. He had fled the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus after Edelgard’s invasion and Dimitri’s defeat. The rest of House Gautier had been massacred. And in the time he’d been on his own, what did he have to show for it? An old family lance he kept polished and a horse with a dozen flies in either eye?

No doubt Mercedes’s devotion to the church had never wavered. He could picture her now, with her unwavering angelic spirit, doing what she could to ease suffering and heal the injured she met. Anette would be right beside her, fending off thieves and Edelgard’s troops with a determined, merciless look on her face with every spell she casts. He wondered if Ashe had become a full-fledged knight, off parading on the adventures he had rambled about from his books. Felix and Ingrid...he tried to block them out of his head. What Dedue and- he swallowed. The last he had heard, Anette had witnessed Dedue’s body being dragged from a battlefield lifeless, shortly after Dimitri had fallen.

Dimitri, his King whom he had vowed to follow to the kinds of the Earth.

Deduce, his loyal friend who had stood up for him time after time in their schooling days, a person Sylvain had vowed to always defend in return- they were both gone. In the end, Sylvain couldn’t protect anyone.

He was the least qualified to call himself a knight, a hero, or anything else except a coward.

It was at the fishing pond where he noticed another horse with no rider, but with a saddle too elegantly embellished to belong to any common bandit. It was crafted from smooth, polished leather with gold stitchwork. A large quiver of long arrows was securely fastened on the side. No! It couldn't be, could it?!

Sylvain brought his horse to a halt and jumped from it, racing up the stairs towards the grand hall.

Just a moment ago he had told himself he shouldn’t have come, that he was the least deserving to be part of this reunion, and now at the first sign of anyone he was sprinting, in full armor, up the stairs as if his life depended on it. It didn’t matter who it was. Just so long as he wasn’t alone. Just so long as one person was here, to see that he wanted to put an end to all this bloodshed.

As heavy as the door was, Sylvain would summon every bit of strength he could to force them open.


	2. Steps to Atonement I

He had arrived not long before Sylvain had.

Claude’s footsteps echoed down the empty corridors of Garreg Mach as he looked around the empty halls. His emotions were turbulent, between reminiscing on sweet memories and sorrow at all that had been lost. He always knew something was wrong beneath the surface, but he was useless to stop it. Powerless. Not this time. Showing up as they had promised was his first step in keeping that peace they had taken for granted so long ago. He swore to himself to never feel that way again. 

He knew it was too much to expect - for anyone else to show up here. With the war being fought, everyone had their own families, their territories to worry about. Not to mention nobody had seen the professor in 5 years. Edelgard had betrayed them. Dimitri was dead. It was truly a timeline without hope. 

Claude drifted aimlessly over the grounds and couldn’t help but reflect on the time he spent here with his peers, with his professor. His trip through the monastery took him to the grand hall where he could hear the echoes of the past ringing in his ears. The echoes were so loud, he could swear someone was there. He could almost imagine Sylvain’s voice, calling out his name, as if he was in the room with him. Wait…

"CLAUDE?!" he called out, huffing as he pushed the door wide open. "YOUR HIGHNESS?!"

Claude turned, his eyes spotting the bright red hair of the other young noble, a soft smile forming on his lips. “Yo,” was all he said as the doors closed behind Sylvain.

When he came into perfect view, and that single word sounded from his voice through the hall Sylvain felt as if all his sorrow and every bit of despair in him had been left outside the monastery, cut off by the large door behind him. "Claude...CLAUDE!" He was near sprinting up to the other, skidding to a halt with his armor clanking on his body. The light had returned in his eyes when the other was in arm’s reach. He had to be sure of it. Sylvain placed both hands on Claude’s shoulders, feeling his physical presence. "It is you! Claude, you're-- you're here!"

He just laughed and pumped his fist against Sylvain’s breastplate. “Good to see you, Sylvain. Been a while, hasn’t it?” He hadn’t expected Sylvain to be the next one, nor one to be so excited to see him of all people. They hadn’t been the closest before the war, but there had been enough shared moments to know he liked the other’s company. Here Sylvain was, smiling from ear to ear at the sight of him and suddenly embracing him in a tight, somewhat uncomfortable hug thanks to all the armor he was wearing. Still, he returned it.

It had been a while since anyone had shown Claude compassion.

Sylvain didn't know what else to say at first. He just stared at his friend's face, admiring how well he had aged until he couldn't contain himself any further. "If you're here then everyone else should be, right? I mean.- we all promised, didn't we? Where are they?! Dorthea? Felix?! Hilda!"

“Woah there, slow your roll,” he said, perking up. There was a joy to seeing Sylvain that he couldn’t explain. 

“I was the first to arrive - I believe you’re second. I was beginning to lose hope, but with you here, I’m sure others will be coming soon. The evening is still young, after all,” he said with a slow nod. He held Sylvain tightly, not letting go until all of his anxieties escaped him. He took a deep exhale and pulled a couple of inches away so that he could see Sylvain's face. “You look great,” he said with a soft, almost sad smile.

"Huh? Really?" Cue an old habit.

"Erh- I mean! Heh. Of course, I do. I'm aging like fine wine: only getting fresher!" He ran his armor-clad fingers through his sweat-drenched hair with a toothy smile as if to convey his self-proclaimed good looks. Although he had aged well, at the very moment, it was questionable just how flattering he looked, given the amount of sweat on his face and dirty littered hair.

Claude smiled gently as he watched his old friend stammer over his words. As Sylvain pushed his fingers through his hair, there was a stray sliver, and Claude ran his finger through it to put it back in place. 

"But man, you aren't exactly the prince I remember from our academy days! When did you grow a beard? Hehe~ you pull it off well! And you cut your braid! It always looked kinda cool on you!" The way he spoke was uplifting, and a little rushed like he was spitting anything that came to mind. “And you - your hair’s gotten so long,” he said with a smirk. "I wonder how much everyone else has changed! What if Caspar is still short?! Hah- remember how angry he'd get during training every time he lost to Raphael?" He closed his eyes with his smile and gave a small head tilt. 

“Caspar is still short - there’s no way he grew. He’d still lose to Raphael any day…” Claude turned his head and looked around the room. They were still alone, no sign of bandits or anyone nearby watching them. The grand hall had a lot of memories, and now being next to someone familiar, it was starting to come back more vividly than before. “Remember the White Heron Cup? Everyone sneaking off to dance with the person they cared about?”

Sylvain had to think for a moment - about how kind of pathetic that night had been for him in particular. The only person who had danced with him was Ingrid out of pity since no one else had dared take him up when he asked them. Sylvain's face glowed a faint shade of pink as it all came back to him. "Yeah! I remember that! Hell, I remember I had to break up with three girls that night because so many agreed to be my date! Ha! What a night, haaaaaa," his laugh trailed off, slightly embarrassed. 

It was a lie, but surely Claude didn’t know that. He wouldn’t remember the details that well, would he? The dance was just another example of how Sylvain wasn’t the person he claimed to be. He had always been self-aware and well informed of what others had said about him behind his back, even without Ingrid chewing him out every time she had to save him from a girl whose heart he’d break, whose name he’d never remember. That night he had been alone because no girl in their right mind would have ever given him a moment of their time unless it was out of pity.

"Who'd you dance with? You remember?"

Claude tilted his head and brought his hand to cup his chin. He remembered he danced with the professor, but that was only because Byleth looked uncomfortable - like he wasn’t having any fun. There was nothing romantic between the two of them, and once they were done and Byleth grew more comfortable, Claude had wandered, alone for the rest of that evening. A lonely feeling set in. 

That entire evening, he could only think of the one person he wanted to dance with. Maybe if both of them knew how alone the other was…

He shook his head at the thoughts. Claude couldn’t redo the past, but he  _ could  _ focus on the present. “I danced with the Teach, but only for a bit. The dance kind of sucked, if I’m being honest,” he said with a chuckle, shaking his head as he put his hands on his hips.

"Oh yeah! I think I remember seeing you two dancing together! Can't say it was something I expected from you, but hey! To each their own, right?" He shrugged his shoulders and turned on his heels. His eyes scanned the great hall, now in a state of ruin. Dusty, dark, grim...yet just having one person's company made it feel not so bad at all!

"Well...I can't say Ingrid was the best dance partner, either," he finally confessed, continuing to throw the fault of his misery on others. If he remembered correctly, Ingrid truthfully  _ wasn’t  _ a good dancer. He could have sworn he remembered her stepping- no,  _ stomping  _ on his toes the whole time. It was probably her idea of revenge for all the trouble he had caused her the entire year. "Still, it was a fun night, wasn't it?" 

He acted without thinking, going along with the very next thing that popped into his head. Sylvain turned back to Claude and delivered a slow, deep bow towards him, and then extended his hand. "Care to live it again while we wait for the others?"

A soft smile formed across Claude’s lips at Sylvain’s gesture. “Really Sylvain? Still playing jokes, years later? You haven’t changed a bit,” he teased. Claude took his hand, lacing their fingers together as he placed a hand on Sylvain’s hip, and began to move, humming a soft song for them to dance to. He chuckled at the corniness, but his eyes met Sylvain’s as the two moved through the grand hall. 

This time it was Sylvain who was the awkward one- dancing in his knight armor, lance on his back, looking a mess, sweaty and exhausted. He moved stiffly as he tried to follow along with Claude's lead. It was an act of humor to the redhead, but one he was more than joyful to indulge in. 

Claude murmured, “Just imagine - the dazzling lights, the crowds of people. You can almost feel the magic,” he said gently. He looked around the empty room as they swayed, their footsteps echoing through the emptied chambers. His eyes then rested back on Sylvain’s, and a soft blush formed across Claude’s cheeks - 5 years ago, it was Sylvain he wanted to dance with, and 5 years later, he was getting to play that out. Fate works in mysterious ways, he thought.

A moment with his eyes closed and Sylvain could almost imagine that night from five years ago all over again. The warm light, the decedent smell of sweets and people's perfume, the music from the strings...he exhaled and opened his eyes to look into Claude's. "Hmmm, it's almost more fun this time around," he muttered. 

Claude chuckled as he watched Sylvain’s rigid steps and awkward movements. He shook his head, releasing his grip on Sylvain’s hands and stepping back. “Why don’t you take off your armor, dummy? We’re not going to be attacked here.” A distraction. While it was a genuine offer, Claude would have taken any reason to step away as he felt his heart beginning to pound. He was usually level-headed but now needed a second to contain himself. It must have just been the excitement of it the moment, was all.

"You think that? Bandits love to camp out here, don't they?" To Sylvain, it seemed like a terrible idea, taking off his armor, but he couldn't deny the very idea of being out of his stuffy, heavy metals was a dream. He was already taking off his gloves, and then his shoulder armor, sighing as he did so.

Claude sat down on a nearby half-destroyed table, watching patiently. “You’re going to dance yourself straight to your grave if you keep trying to dance with all of that on,” he said, a toothy grin across his face. Luckily for him, his combat attire was much lighter, so he didn’t have to worry - though he was always curious how someone managed to move around with that much metal on them. Sylvain just always made it seem so effortless.

"What will I do if we get ambushed? Got to protect His Majesty, don't I?" he snickered. Yeah, because he had done a great job of that over the years. His remark sank its fangs right into him.

“Oh, Sylvain, you have so little faith in me,” he said, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back slightly. “As if I wouldn’t scout the place out and scare off any baddies that might disturb my dear friend’s big dance…” A soft smile across his face formed.

Sylvain kept disarming himself until he only had on his iron boots, underclothing, and chainmail. It was all in a pile close by, just in case.

"Now...where were we?" He asked as he stepped up to Claude once again. Hands joined together, while there was an awkward struggle of who was placing their hand on the other's waist. Sylvain, for the moment, allowed Claude to lead again and put his hand on the other's shoulder.

"Much easier," he said as they started again. His boots still clanked and scrapped as he made much heavier steps than his partner. Yet, Sylvain was moving with more flow and ease, now. He stepped a little closer to him this time, his eyes fixed on Claude's own. "I'm glad you're safe after all this time," he hushed.

Claude felt his face grow warm. He let out a small laugh. A large smile was across his face. As Sylvain stepped closer to him, the Almyran was sure his skin was betraying his calm facade, turning a light shade of red. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said in response, his tone low and smooth. 

For another dance, it all felt so...relaxing. Sylvain's body motions were so much smoother and natural. Even with the shorter one leading, Sylvain didn't mind being carried away by Claude like this. His breathing slowed for a moment as he basked in the experience.

His heavy iron boots felt light as a feather the longer they danced. The glow on Claude’s face made Sylvain smile back with a slight pink tone, himself. He moved his hand to be around Claude's waist and pulled himself closer to him. Sylvain was stealing the lead away as he guided Claude into a more upbeat pace for a brief moment.

Claude’s eyes lowered to Sylvain’s lips. 

Sylvain's heart skipped a beat. Their faces were indeed close. He gulped. It wasn't like he had intended for this, but still...maybe it was just the relief of seeing Claude for the first time in years, for him having remembered the promise of five years ago…

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Garreg Mach’s biggest bachelor wants me to kiss him,” he added, teasingly.

Was it really teasing? Or was it Claude’s way of asking, hoping, that Sylvain wanted the very thing he had suggested?

"B-bachelor?!" Sylvain missed a step, almost falling over, and taking Claude with him as his face exploded with red.

Unable to stop the fall, Claude fell on top of Sylvain and instinctively reached to put his hand behind Sylvain’s head to stop him from slamming into the ground. 

Sylvain’s armor would have certainly come in hand then...if only it had been on. Sylvain shut his eyes tight, body scraping and pulsing with pain when it hit the cold stone floor. He felt the joints of Claude's fingers jab against the back of his skull, yet he knew the bruises were much better than potentially cracking his skull. "Oof, negh~" Sylvain's backside sizzled.

The young noble’s hair cascaded down the side of his face as he looked at Sylvain, his green eyes locked on the other. 

“Wow, talk about smooth,” Claude said with a chuckle. There was no urgency to move off of the other. He lingered there for a moment, and then added, “Sylvain, if you wanted to lay down with me, all you had to do was ask,” he said with a wink, pushing himself up slightly. As he stood back up, he lowered his hand, offering support to his friend. Claude was laying it on thick, and figured he should start to pump the breaks - after all, he didn’t know for how long they would be alone, nor did he even know if Sylvain saw him in the way that Claude saw him. 

He took a breath and stood there, waiting for Sylvain to take his hand.

It took Sylvain a moment to process Claude's remarks as he was shaking off the slight shock factor. "Yeah, well- what can I say?" he groaned as he sat up and began dusting himself off. "I can't help wanting a beautiful guy such as yourself laying with me." Somehow, he had the stomach to egg the other on right back. Sylvain took Claude's hand and stood up.

"Maybe we should call it a night, for now. How about another one when we celebrate our victory?"

“Sure,” Claude said with a smile. “Maybe next time you won’t trip over your own feet,” he said with a smirk, shaking his head slowly. “We can stop by the old infirmary and see if they have any rubbing alcohol and bandages and get you cleaned up if you want,” he said, craning his neck around to make sure Sylvain’s head wasn’t bleeding. 

Of course, his hand was in immense pain - if they had landed any harder, he definitely would’ve broken a finger or two, but instead, he got off with some scrapes and bruises. He tried to act casual though, sliding that hand into his pocket, trying to hide his wince as he did so. 

“Say, if you’re so worried about bandits, maybe you should sleep in my room. I’ll protect you from the big baddies, alright,” he said, a toothy grin cracking across his lips.

"Claude? Inviting me to your old dorm room? How romantic of you," he teased back as he started shuffling to get his armor back on. Well, it wasn't like they'd be staying in a castle that evening. Still, Sylvain chuckled and shook his head. "That's probably where any bandit would stow away for the night. I wonder if it's all still there, ya know? Any of it! Linhardt's books, or Caspar's training equipment...."

He got lost in thought for a moment before shaking himself awake. "Heh- well, can't argue that it's better to stay together! Should look for the others? See if anyone else has arrived? Or maybe gather supplies?"

Claude chuckled. “Still worried about those bandits?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. “Don’t think we can protect ourselves? How insulting,” he said with a small chuckle. He lifted his head, looking towards the ceiling of the monastery. “I wouldn’t bank on too much being left behind...” he said, rather solemnly. “But we can take a stroll around and look for the others if that’s what you would like.” He lowered his head to face the other male, smiling gently.

"Hey, We'll be fine, I'm sure! Though, think it'd be too much to hope that the sauna is still intact and working? Sure could use a soak." It had been said in jest, but the shallow root of his tone made it clear that he was indeed hopeful. "Where should we check first? The cathedral? The courtyard? The gates?"

Claude scooped his bow off of the floor and strapped it back across his back - just in case. He then scratched the back of his head as he thought about it. “Why don’t we check out the courtyard?” he asked, his green eyes glancing back towards the other male. “We can check out the sauna last - though I wouldn’t hold your breath.” He chuckled and began to make his way down the corridor, taking the familiar path to the courtyard. 


	3. Steps to Atonement II

To the courtyard, they went.

Truly a desolate place it had become in the past five years. The two of them walked slowly in disbelief of the state of things, yet neither knew what to have expected, given the circumstances. The last time they had set foot in the Gerrag Moch, it had been a warzone. Ruin and decay were to be expected, and they both wanted to hold out to the hope that at least  _ some  _ part had remained untouched by time. It used to be one of their favorite places - it always seemed to be full of life. Now, everything seemed so hollow, ravaged by time and war. 

The lush, peaceful center of the Garreg Mach was not a gray, dried plot of rubble. The landscaping was overrun. Cracks ran through the stone walk-path. The gazebo was in shambles, the roof half destroyed. The grass had dried up and lost its color. Spots were overgrown with tired-looking shrubbery. It was a wonder if they were even alive, and if so how they had survived all these years without the groundskeeper taking care of things.

As they arrived, Claude pursed his lips. He shook his head and chuckled. “Time does change everything, huh?

As depressing as it was, Sylvain maintained a small, hopeful smile on his face. "Hmmm. Remember how many hours we'd train here? How many times we'd enjoy lunch on the grass when spring finally arrived? Heh~ I remember sometimes catching Lindhardt napping out here."

Sylvain listing the fond memories of the courtyard helped to pull Claude out of his doom-and-gloom mood. Claude looked towards a particular tree that had since been overturned on its side. The branches had flattened under the force of gravity over the years, the color had faded from its leaves, and decay drying the wood. He nodded towards it and said with a snicker, “I certainly remember Ingrid giving you an earful for peaking at some of the ladies over there.” 

He looked over at the tree Claude was staring at and laughed. “Which time? Happened too often to remember any one occurrence.” Sylvain hunched his shoulders for a moment, thinking over how many times he had been slapped across the face by so many women in this same area. Hell, he could barely remember half of their names or faces by now. There were far too many to count. Ingrid would probably be able to jog his memory with how many girls she had broken with  _ for him. _

Sylvain shook the notion from his conscience. His eyes shifted to Claude beside him, momentarily. "I remember more the time when I stood in front of the tree and you'd practice shooting apples on my head."

“That’s right. And I remember almost hitting you in the forehead because you wouldn’t stop squirming.”

“Hey! It was an easy exercise for you! I almost got impaled through the skull! And for what?! You could have done the same thing with a training dummy!” Sylvain would always conveniently forget to add that he had volunteered that one time for the sake of gaining more of Claude’s favor...and it had worked, in the end. There was a slight, sharp inhale as he thought back to how an arrow and an apple had been an early step leading to a lot more.

“You were my training dummy, dummy,” he said, giving him a playful nudge to his side. 

The longer they surveyed the courtyard the more memories came back. Like static, Sylvain could swear he could see the grounds, still disturbed in the area where they sat most often. He could remember the smell of the fresh morning dew of spring, the sound of their professor’s voice calling them to come to the classroom for their lessons. Nights where he’d sneak out and meet in the sauna. Little kisses. Afternoon tea time. There were too many moments to remember all at once.

Over the years as students, it had been a dangerous dance of getting close to each other. There had been flirting, sweet nothings whispered, and moments of sharp, lip-biting tension where one another’s desire was clear for each other. Yet, they had done well, Claude especially, to keep each other at arm’s length. Back then, they both had their futures to worry about, their house, if not a whole nation to rule, respectively. Expectations would be met, scripted for them both from the moment they were born into nobility, and with crests to their name.

And those expectations still weighed on them, even now. There was a dictator to overthrow, nations to liberate, innocents to save, and a world to restore. That was their duty. It always had been.

A faint glow appeared on his cheeks. Sylvain shook his head. “Yeah, well, I’d let you do it again. Hell, maybe even with a fire spell, buuuut we have stuff to take care of right now! I say we hit the cathedral next!”

Claude had been staring at Sylvain the whole time, watching him reminisce, curious. “To the Cathedral, then,” he said, moving forward. He walked a few paces in front - if they walked side-by-side, he’s constantly fighting the urge to interlace their fingers together.

Sylvain had never considered them close friends, but he couldn’t deny the bit of history between them.

Neither of them knew exactly when it started, but at some point, Sylvain and Claude found themselves in a little game of cat and mouse with the other. The catch - neither of them knew who was the cat or the mouse. 

A few winks, playful banter, witty remarks, and before he knew it, Sylvain had found himself chasing after Claude almost the same way he would any other harlot in town. Except...he had been softer, slower, and smarter about it all. He had treated Claude differently than most.

There was indeed a distance between the two, and it was evident. Despite his usually oblivious and ignorant nature, even Sylvain could tell when Claude was reigning himself away from something. He could sense it in the air by the way Claude walked ahead of him, standing tall, and walking quietly. It pained Sylvain, slightly. Was it cockiness? The damage to his pride or his ego? Still, he chose not to reel him back, not this time. It was not the time nor the place for such. Now was the time to...admire the view.

Sylvain was smirking as they made their way across the bridge towards the cathedral entrance. He eyed down Claude’s backside, giving extra attention to a certain asset of his. Well, it seemed that his face and hair weren’t the  _ only _ part of Claude that had gotten better with age. He bit his lip and held his tongue as a shallow hiss escaped him.

“Not my favorite place in the monastery,” he finally spoke up, quick to try and disguise his tension as discomfort when they passed through the front door. “All I remember about this place was sleeping during worship hours and Dorthea’s singing.”

The Noble took a look around at the abandoned cathedral - a large portion of the wall had caved in from the battle that took place over the school 5 years ago. He sighed. “Can’t say I never got behind the idea of the goddess, but choir practice was fun,” he said with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was also one of the few places you could take Marianne to calm her down when she was freaking out. I’m almost jealous of those who could just blindly believe…” He let his voice trail off, and then turned back towards Sylvain. 

He folded his hands across his abdomen, taking up a bit of a guarded stance as he stared at his companion. Things were always so complicated. Hilda always suspected there was something between the two and would rib Claude about it incessantly, but Claude would put on his best poker face and deny any feelings he had - a game he had gotten good at. But pesky Hilda always persisted…

Now, here, alone in the cathedral with him, he felt a drop in the pit of his stomach. The world was dark and on the verge of tearing itself apart, yet at this moment, only one thing mattered to Claude - this conflict within his mind squeezed at his heart. 

Maybe it was the very circumstances that made the next thought he had not to feel so absurd. As far as Claude was concerned, there was no goddess left to serve. They had failed at their duties for years and allowed the world to plunge into chaos and destruction. Fire had swallowed countless things Claude had cherished his whole life, and now here he was, alone, with possibly the last thing that had remained consistent since all those years ago. The last thing that could always put a smile on his face.

Why not? Why not be selfish? Why not deny his duty and betray the last expectation the world had of him? Why not give in to his passions, and chase after Sylvain with the same stupidity in mind that the other steered his life with every day?

Was it really so wrong to reach out for what he wanted more than anything else?

He stepped forward, his green eyes locking into Sylvain’s, a cold, serious expression across his face as he stepped towards his red-headed friend. He dropped his arms to his side and walked until he was only inches away from the other, and let out a heavy breath. “Kiss me,” was all he said, letting the words float in the thick air of tension.

Sylvain gulped. With that request, Sylvain felt every hinge of his spine straighten up. That majestic green glow in Claude’s eyes was strong enough to see into Sylvain's very spirit. Sylvain's vision narrowed as he just kept staring back into the other's eyes. His heart was beating against the inside of his ribs, and his legs felt so heavy that he could sink right through the stone floors if so much as a feather was placed on his shoulders.

This wasn't a joke, and he knew it. It wasn't a kiss on the cheek that you'd give a family member, or one Sylvain had given Claude in the past casual encounter. No. Claude was asking for one of passion, and it made Sylvain's arms shake. His mouth became dry even as he gulped once more.

Both hands found their way onto Claude's shoulders, holding him firm, nails digging into the fabric of his clothing. His armor rattled slightly as his limbs kept shaking. Claude’s eyes had a cold expression in them while a smile was painted across his lips. "Nerh," he nearly coughed when he opened his lips just enough for the deed. Slowly, but surely, those last few inches became centimeters. Eyes remained open. The gap was closing. He was going to do it. Sylvain was…

He paused.

A snicker. And then a giggle. Finally, Sylvain threw his head back in hysterical laughter as he stepped away from Claude. His hands were removed. One hugged his sides while the other wiped away a few tears from his own eyes. "That's rich, especially for you, Claude! HAHAHAHA! Man, thou, you almost had me fooled." He was smiling once again, with a water droplet or two still hanging from his eyelids.

"Come on. This isn't the time for jokes. Want to go search the mess hall next? We can see the entrance from there so we could kill two locations from one viewpoint."

Just like that, Claude finally understood every woman who had ever slapped Sylvain.

Claude knew exactly what he was doing - after all, the tactician always looked several steps ahead, and made his decisions carefully, but decisively. He could tell by the way the male had approached him exactly how he was going to react. He could tell himself to hold it together all he wanted, but he knew deep in his gut, that what he wanted would be too good to be true - for him to have everything he wanted. It would always be out of his reach. Still...he wanted to at least try.

In the apocalypse, he thought he had nothing to lose. As it turned out, it took Sylvain doing what he did best to take the last thing he  _ did  _ have.

Hope.

He smiled, but behind that smile were gritted teeth. 

“Sorry - you know I can’t resist a good joke,” he said, but his voice had no substance. He stepped back and looked towards the door of the cathedral. “Yeah, let’s head to the mess hall,” he said, and with that, he moved forward, his footsteps heavy in the silence of the cathedral. 

He had screwed up, probably worse than he ever had in the past with any person that he had danced around like this, and he knew it. This wasn't a moment where he could hide away in his room for a few hours and it would all blow over by evening. The soulless look in Claude's eyes, the lifeless tone in his voice...

Sylvain could hear daggers behind every word, feel every step dig into the stone floor as if it were a hammer driving nails into his limbs, his body presented on a stake for every ghost to watch. Now it was he, who was telling himself to hold it together...except he couldn't.

All those years and truly nothing had changed. He was nothing more, than a shameless coward.

Claude turned back, looking over his shoulder, and gave that smile Teach saw in him that first day - the smile that never reached his eyes. “Well, are you coming?”

"Yeah...I'll just be a second," he said with his back turned towards him. "Go on without me. I'll be right behind you."

Claude’s eyes scanned the other, watching the tension in his body. The Alliance Lord, for all of his analytical prowess, could never quite figure out Sylvain. The hurt in him was clear, yet Claude couldn’t seem to reach him. Claude simply closed his eyes and smiled, giving a soft, “Sure, take your time.” 

He turned back towards the door, and his hands wrapped around the handle, gripping it until his knuckles burned white as he pulled it open. As a closing remark, he stated, “Don’t let the bandits get yah.”

"Yeah...I'll be on my guard." It was taking every ounce of strength to keep standing as Claude left him.

The sound of the door creaking behind him rang through the air as he left his friend alone in the cathedral.

Sylvain remained standing long enough until he was sure no one would be able to hear his plated armor crash against the floor as he collapsed onto his knees and beat his fists against the stone until he felt them exploding again, and again in pain. He was coughing and choking on his own breath. "Why?! Why did I...- Why didn't I--?"


End file.
